“What makes you think it’s our government?” Lowell asks.

“Pardon?” I ask.

Viv’s just as confused. “I thought you said…”

“You have no idea who owns Wendell, do you?” Lowell asks.

The room’s so silent, I hear the blood flowing through my ears. “ Lowell, what the hell is going on?” I ask.

“We traced it back, Harris. It was well hidden: Idaho, Montana – all the states that make it harder to do a good corporate records search. Whoever set it up knew all the magic tricks. After Antigua, it bounced to a fake board of directors in Turks and Caicos – which was no help, of course – but they also listed a registered agent with a local address in Belize. Naturally, the address was fake, but the name… it went to the owner of a government-owned concrete company in, of all places, Sana’a.”

“Sana’a?”

“Capital city of Yemen.”

“ Yemen? You’re telling me Wendell Mining is a front for Yemen?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“That’s where the records run – and do you have any idea what happens if they start making plutonium and selling it to whoever’s got the fattest money clip? Know how many lunatics would line up for that?”

“All of them.”

“All of them,” Lowell repeats. “And if even one of them gets close… we’ve gone to war for far less than that.”

“I-It’s impossible… they gave money… they were on the wish list… all the names…”

“Believe me, I’ve been looking for a single Arabic name on the list. These guys usually only hire their own, but the way they’re hidden… I’m guessing they brought in someone over here to put on a public face and grease the right pockets – some CEO-type so it all looks clean. We’re looking at this guy Andre Saulson, whose name is on one of Wendell’s bank accounts. The name’s probably fake, but one of our boys noticed the address matches an old listing we had for someone named Sauls. It’ll take some time to confirm, but he fits the mold. London School of Economics… Sophia University in Tokyo. We looked at him a few years back for art fraud – he was supposedly trying to move the Vase of Warka when it was snatched from Iraq ’s National Museum, which is probably how the Yemenis found him. Very high-end scams. Yemen brings him in for credibility, then Sauls hires Janos to flatten out the speed bumps, and maybe even another guy to help them maneuver through the system…”

“Pasternak… That’s how they got into the game.”

“Exactly. They bring in Pasternak – he may not even know who they really are – and now they’ve got one of the best players in town. All they have to do is get their gold mine. You have to give them credit. Why risk the wrath of inspectors in the Middle East when you can build your bomb right in our own backyard without anyone thinking twice? Set it up right, and Congress will even give you the land for free.”

My stomach plummets. I can barely stand up.

“W-What do we do now?” Viv asks, her whole face already shiny with sweat.

We’re not just out of our league – we don’t even know what sport they’re playing.

Running back toward the hallway, Lowell ’s already in rescue mode. “Lock the doors behind me – both bolts. Time to ring the king.”

I’ve heard the term before. Once he gets to the Attorney General, they’re calling in the White House.

As Lowell disappears from the room, Viv notices his keys on the coffee table. “ Lowell, wait…!” she calls out, grabbing the key ring and following him outside.

“Viv, don’t!” I shout. Too late. She dashes into the hallway.

As I run for the door, I hear Viv scream. I step out into the hall just as she backs into me. Up the hallway, barely around the corner, Janos presses his forearm against Lowell ’s neck, pinning him to the wall. Before I can even react, Janos pulls his black box from Lowell ’s chest. Lowell ’s body convulses slightly, then drops lifelessly to the floor. His body hits with two dull thuds – first his knees, then his forehead – echoing through the empty hallway. It’s a sound that’ll never leave me. I look down at my friend. His eyes are still open, staring blankly at us.

Janos doesn’t say a word. He just lunges forward.

“RUN!” I SHOUT to Viv, yanking her by the shoulder and pushing her further up the hallway, away from Janos.

As Janos barrels toward me, he lets out a smirk, trying to intimidate. He expects me to run. That’s why I stay put. This lunatic’s killed three of my friends. He’s not getting a fourth.

“Keep going!” I call to Viv, making sure she has enough of a lead.

From the angle Janos is coming from, he can’t see what I’m looking at: Just inside the door of the hideaway, the Senator’s leather golf bag leans against the wall. I reach for the clubs, but Janos is moving too fast.

Just as my hand grabs a shiny nine iron, he plows into me, slamming me backwards into the threshold of the doorway. My back lets out a loud crack, but I still don’t let go of the club. Pinning me like Lowell, he stabs the black box at my chest; I knock his arm aside with the tip of the club. Before he realizes what’s happening, I ram my head forward, head-butting him as hard as I can in the nose. Same place I hit the scientist in the mine. The sweet spot, my uncle called it. Sure enough, a trickle of blood runs down from Janos’s left nostril, across the top of his lip. His hound-dog eyes widen the slightest bit. He’s actually surprised. Time to take advantage.

“Get… off!” I shout, seizing the moment and shoving him backwards. Before he can get his balance, I hold up the golf club like a baseball bat and rush straight at him. Sometimes the best chess is played fast. As I swing the club, he protects the black box, cradling it close to his chest. He thinks I’m going high. That’s why I go low, arcing the club downward and smashing him as hard as I can in the side of his knee.

It’s like hitting a boulder. There’s a loud crack, and the club vibrates in my hands. I still don’t let go. At the last second, he rolls with the impact, but it’s enough to send his leg buckling beneath him. Like before, he barely lets out a grunt. I’m not impressed. Feeling good, I move in closer for another swing. That’s my mistake. As he falls to the ground, he never takes his eyes off my club. Before I can even wind up again, he yanks the nine iron from my hands. He’s so fast, I barely see it happen. It’s a quick reminder I can’t beat him head-on. Still, I got what I wanted. Behind me, Viv’s turned the corner. Now we’ve got a head start.

Janos slams against the concrete floor. I turn and sprint as hard as I can up the hallway. As I turn the corner, I practically plow into Viv.

“What’re you doing?” I ask, sidestepping around her. She falls in step right behind me. “I said to run.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She’s trying to sound strong. It’s not working.

Behind us, the golf club scrapes against the concrete floor. Janos is getting up. As he starts running, the echoes of his footsteps are off beat. He’s definitely limping – but the beat’s getting quicker. He’s shaking it off.

Frantically scrambling past the stacks of old furniture scattered on each side of us, I search the hallway for help. Down here, most of the doors are locked and unmarked.

“What about that one?” Viv asks, pointing to a door that’s marked Sergeant At Arms. I lunge for the doorknob. It doesn’t twist. Damn. Locked.

“This one, too,” Viv says, trying a closed door on our right. I hear her panting over my shoulder. We’re running out of hallway, and unlike last time, the Capitol police are too far away. We have a short lead, but it’s not enough – not unless we do something quick.

Up ahead, on our left, there’s a loud mechanical hum. It’s the only door that’s open. The sign on it reads:

Danger